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knifenymph

genterie

breanna-lynn

lunardara

“I’ve written a song for my wife.”

Fred was married 72 years to his wife. He wrote a song for her when he saw a songwriting contest advertised in the paper, and he couldn’t resist writing one for her. She had just passed a month earlier. They had been together since the 30′s. 96 years old, Fred couldn’t play an instrument or sing, so he simply mailed in his lyrics, attaching his story in the letter. When the studio holding the contest saw his song and read his letter, they decided to record it for him and play the song for him to hear.

tofughoul

I don’t care. This means a lot.

deadenddirt

fuck

veganhobbit

This made me cry

fuckingstevenglansberg

its number 12 on itunes!

theawkwardlifeofnatalee

i found this yesterday and i couldn’t stop crying

#oh my god #my fucking heart #LOVE

synqra

plantinghuman

drakomalfoyyy-deactivated202006

im glad dogs cant read the “no dogs allowed” signs so they dont feel sad & left out

rbhvleo

anything-that-inspires-me

seas0f-3ternal-love

i want this right now.

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cpassikoff

This is the bed where we fell in love. (Some may say it was New York, but that was messy and made me sad for too long.)

This is where we slept before we slept together. This is where we made music and art before we made love. This is where girls and guys could be just friends. This is where we ate fast food and watched horror movies (even though I hated that.) This is where we kissed when we shouldn’t have. This is where I held you at two AM, when you sobbed and begged me not to leave. This is where I sobbed, too, and told you I had to, but I wasn’t really going anywhere. This is where we talked until the sun came up. This is where I drew branches on your arm. This is where I ran to at 6 AM when I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. This is where we tried to not let this happen. (That lasted a total of eight hours.) This is where I called “home” when home became an idea and not a place. This is where we took obnoxious pictures and sent them to everyone in our phone contacts. (This is why everyone hates us, probably.) This is where I told you I was (20%) sure this wasn’t what it was before. This is where I was sad about her and you rolled over at me until I started crying because you don’t know how to be mad at me. This is where we stared into each other’s eyes for at least an hour and didn’t say a word. (It was the most comforting feeling I can recall.) This is where you told me you were (85%) in love with me. (You later told me it was 100%, but I started the percentages, I guess.) This is where we decided we were in love with each other. This is where you loved me for the first time. This is where you loved me a lot more times. This is where we started hi-fiving after because we’re best friends first. This is where you read me your favorite books. This is where we slept, with the sheet that didn’t always fit, then the fuzzy sheet, and sometimes no sheet at all. This is where I decided that I don’t care if “they saw this coming three years ago” because we didn’t see it coming three years ago and we don’t owe anyone a fucking explanation. This is where I think I really saw you for the first time. This is where I decided I never wanted to be without you. This is where you told me I never had to. This is where I fell in love with my best friend.

This is not where we will continue to love. My bed in Philadelphia is now our bed in Philadelphia. We will fall asleep/wake up in a bed that is not this one, but I will continue to love you just as much.

I promise.

#//

rachaeldee

Tumblr logged me off this account like years ago and would never send me a link to reset my password so i havent been able to access this blog for years until JUST NOW? i just fixed it holy crap???

HI TUMBLR/VOID ARE PPL STILL ON HERE DO PPL STILL USE THIS DOES ANYONE REMEMBER OLE ME (PROBS NOT) I CANT BELIEVE IM ON TUMBLR DOT COM AGAIN WOW WTF